Sometime in the past...written for a Yami het challenge.
Tea for Two
“It’s beautiful…but then, so are you.” Muraki clasped her fingers, cold in the winter’s chill. High above the city, the buildings were obscured in mist so that all remained were the blurred outlines of lights, wisps of color treading cloud and fog. Daylight dimmed to dusk as it grew darker.
Ukyou smiled and said nothing in reply, other than clasping his hand more tightly with her gloved hand, the flush of red upon her cheek saying that perhaps she was embarrassed or perhaps it was merely that she was cold. Long black hair pulled back with red ribbons, her black coat unbuttoned at the top to show a peek of white collar underneath.
She opened her mouth to say something, but then, it started to rain, and she blinked in surprise as it came down.
“Would you like to go home?” Muraki asked. “I’ll escort you, if you like.”
“Thank you, Muraki-san,” she said, turning her gaze up to him, the smile reflected in her eyes.
By the time they made it to Ukyou’s apartment, it was pouring, lightning flashing down dangerously from the sky and thunder rumbling overhead. Muraki’s pale hair stuck to the curve of his neck, dripping with water, but he smiled as they ran through puddles. He, pulling her into a dizzying spin, landed the both of them underneath the overhang entrance of her building, the rain pattering forth from the sky in an unruly outburst.
Breathlessly she laughed as they stood there a moment in the shadowed niche, in that pause of darkness before it was really night and the lights would automatically turn on.
And then she realized he had his arms around her. She could feel his warmth through her rain-sodden coat.
“Muraki-san?”
“Yes?” His eyes were bright with unspoken sentiment.
They looked at each other for a moment, curiously.
“I can’t get my keys like this,” she said softly.
“Please excuse me.” When he let her go, it was as if it hadn’t happened at all.
“Would you like to come in and dry off?”
“I would appreciate that.”
“Oh, the power’s out.” She tried flicking the switch a few times before giving up. Fortunately, it wasn’t so dark that it was hard to see.
She shed her black wool coat, dripping water onto the floor, and hung it up on the rack near the door, toeing off her black shoes with a clunk and clatter. Her socks were wet; there was water dripping down her hair onto her white shirt, the collar crumpled from running through the rain. He smiled at the sight, and hung up his own coat, a new and flashy white thing that she had admired but also joked at – it made them opposites, she said, dark to light, night to day.
“Let me get you a towel, Muraki-san.” Ukyou took off her wet socks, leaving them crumpled on the floor. She padded off to another room, barefoot, and came back with two towels. They were white with yellow flowers, and he took one, drying off his hair before leaving it draped over his shoulders.
“You look silly like that,” Ukyou giggled. “Yellow flowers, black shirt…you’re so serious, Muraki-san.”
At this, Muraki said nothing, but smiled…and perhaps that hint of red was embarrassment, or maybe he was just cold.
It was amusing to watch her make tea; she was clumsy around her own kitchen. In the dim blue light of the gas range, Muraki wondered if she cooked for herself, or did the usual student strategy of living off odd stray meals consisting of take-out, supplemented by store-bought sandwiches and cup noodles. The sparseness of her kitchen suggested the latter – he resolved to cook for her someday, when he had the chance.
“Do you want sugar? Milk?” She rummaged through her little refrigerator. “I should have some here but…oh, I don’t have any milk…sugar?”
“It’s all right. I’ll take it plain.”
She came back with the teapot and two mismatched mugs, handled ones in the European style, instead of heavy ceramic Japanese mugs or delicate Chinese cups. One had the word “PABLO” written on it, the other had a picture of a line of yellow ducklings printed along its bottom. She set the pot down on the table to steep. The window looked out over an alley and dim gray light seeped through the panes.
“Today, I'll be Pablo-san,” she smiled. She handed him the duckling mug proudly. “I think the ducklings match the towel."
Muraki chuckled. “I think they do. Perhaps you have some yellow ribbons for my hair too?”
At that, she laughed, slipping off her gloves, leaving them like two husks of hands one atop the other. “What about a yellow skirt?” Ukyou giggled. “You’d be like a dress-up doll.”
Muraki’s smile grew tight at the intrusion of an unwanted memory.
“Muraki-san…did I say something to offend you?”
“No, it’s…it’s nothing.” The smile faded as the memory grew. But he gave his lips a quirk of a smile, apologetically as if to tell her that he wasn’t upset with her.
Ukyou looked at him as if she didn’t quite believe him, her eyes skeptical.
There was a nearly uncomfortable silence.
They both reached for the pot to pour.
Their fingers touched.
Ukyou looked up at him, whispers of memories trailing through that touch, hints of deeper pain, the fall of a cascade of white hair, a broken doll, the creak of a rusted…
“Excuse me.” Muraki drew his hand back. She did as well, blinking at him in surprise. “I think I should go…”
“You don’t have to. I mean, I couldn’t drink an entire pot of tea like this by myself,” Ukyou countered, wondering at that touch, feeling that hint of darkness just beyond his hands. “What if you catch a cold? I’d feel bad.”
“Perhaps some tea then.” Muraki said, a compromise.
“It’s all right.” Ukyou’s hand reached out for his again, boldly. His pale hand was warmer than hers. It was deeper this time, and more clear. A splatter of blood against white, the contrast as shocking as a trickle of blood against snow. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
Muraki’s fingers tightened on hers. She watched his eyes, and what lay behind them, that darkness so deep that she couldn’t explain it or understand it.
“I won’t let go.” The words came out of her mouth before she realized what she had said.
“Then I can’t go home now, can I?” Muraki said softly.
“Not until I say you can,” she replied. “Not until then.”
As it got darker, Ukyou found some candles and lit them carefully from the gas range, and they had tea in the flickering light.